Second Chances
by KeyPea
Summary: Eames nearly missed his chance with Arthur once, he's not going to let it happen again. Arthur/Eames one-shot. Takes place at the end of the movie in the airport. Non-explicit.


Eames stood patiently by the luggage carousel. He already had his luggage- just one small black bag sitting on his trolley, but he was waiting for something else. For the first time in a long time, all of the englishman's cocky swagger had gone, and his mind struggled to get to grips with what had been 10 hours of real time but had been many more hours in the dream depths. He fingered his token in his pocket to be sure he was back in the real world.

The team were heading their separate ways, not daring to give each other any more than small knowing smiles to celebrate the success of their job. Their mark was still in sight, and they couldn't afford to blow it right at the end.

Arthur turned after picking up his own bag from the carousel to find Eames standing quietly behind him, and flinched slightly, as if he had something to hide. "Walk with me, Arthur?" Eames muttered, indicating his luggage trolley. The men met each other's eyes for a long minute until Arthur muttered back a polite thank you and set his bag on top of Eames'.

Eames swallowed nervously as they made their way out of the arrivals. Arthur was cool and collected, with a logical brain but utterly lacking in creativity. He'd kept his head in every situation they'd faced on the job, apart from one that had stunned Eames. They had been in the car, being shot at by the projections, and Arthur had completely lost his shit for the first time Eames could ever remember. An image arose in his memory now of the usually relaxed point man with his wet hair plastered to his face, straining against his seatbelt as he craned around, concerned not for his own safety, but that of Eames, whose name he was screaming over and over to check if he were still alive.

"Eames." Arthur stood awkwardly in front of the trolley, which Eames realised he'd stopped pushing. "Are we going to get out of here?"  
"Yes. Sorry." Eames, glad of something to hold on to, shoved the trolley onwards until the pair stood outside the airport next to a line of taxi cabs. Eames opened a taxi door and slipped his bag inside. "I'm going to get a drink." He said, a little too brightly. "Would you care to join me?"

Unspoken words hung in the air. The last time the pair went for a drink together, they'd both gotten horribly drunk, gambled away far too much money and the night had ended with Arthur on his knees in a sleazy pay-by-the-hour motel, sucking off Eames. Eames had deeply regretted the incident and Arthur had said nothing at all, but they'd mutually agreed to never mention it again, and now Eames was kicking himself for alluding to it again. They'd learned a great deal from Cobb, not to mention Mal, about Inception and now here he was putting thoughts into Arthur's head about the past. 'Engage brain, then speak,' Eames thought to himself angrily.

Before he could apologise for his stupidity Arthur spoke. "I don't want it to be like before," he said firmly. "I care about our friendship too much to throw it away. I'm sure you saw that." He looked away.  
"Oh, darling." Eames paused, and put his hand on Arthur's arm. "I promise it won't be like before. It never should have happened like that, and to prove that won't happen again, I want you to come to dinner with me instead, forget the drinks." In his earnest face Arthur could see no lie, so with a smile he passed his bag over and climbed into the taxi after Eames.

Arthur and Eames walked along the street, swinging their luggage, laughing teasing and even flirting just as much as they had done on the job. They'd had an excellent meal and something to drink, not enough to be stinkingly drunk but just enough to feel warm and confident inside.

"Am I leading _you_ on a merry chase now, Eames?" Arthur teased, skipping ahead a few paces. Eames hurried to keep up and ended up chasing him to the street corner, where they paused under a lamppost.  
"Are you my prize, darling?" Eames stroked Arthur's cheek tenderly with his finger. He closed his eyes and waited, and sure enough soon felt Arthur's soft lips upon his own. They were warm and pleasant, and Eames opened his mouth slightly to see if Arthur's tongue was just as pleasant, snaking his arm around his skinny waist and pressing gently in the small of his back to encourage him. Arthur responded positively, bringing his hand to rest on Eames' cheek as they kissed slowly and thoroughly.

When they broke away for air Arthur still didn't remove his hand. "Eames," he sounded anguished, "I wish this dream didn't have to end."  
"This isn't a dream." Hesitantly Arthur dipped his hand into his pocket and felt for his dice to reassure himself that this Eames wasn't just a projection of his desire. Eames pulled him into a hug and kissed Arthur's forehead gently. For the second time that day, but this time for real, he said, "you mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling." As Arthur looked up, a small smile spread across his lips.

As if he were out to prove this time would be different, when they got to the hotel, that definitely didn't do rentals by the hour, Eames stripped them both off, then promptly dressed them back up again in bed wear, without even attempting to initiate anything more. Arthur laughed and said, "definitely not a dream then."

They both snuggled under the covers together and Arthur rested his head on Eames' chest. "I'm glad this is different to last time." He whispered happily.  
"I've been dropping hints long enough," Eames grumbled. "You don't think I flirt quite so obviously with just anyone, do you?"  
"Still, I was afraid..." Arthur began to say, but Eames cut him off with a gentle squeeze.  
"Never be afraid." He whispered. "I'll be here tomorrow morning, and the morning after that, and as many more as you want me."

They shared one last kiss before Eames muttered, "now go to sleep, Mr Arthur."


End file.
